


Down

by loonyloopy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5676664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopy/pseuds/loonyloopy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persephone deals badly with the events of Trespasser</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down

Her body smashed against the straw. 

Useless. 

Pathetic. 

Weak.

Persephone grunted and tried to tighten her grip around the sword and attacked the fake target again. Grunting, she willed her fingers to not lose their strength, and put her whole weight into the next slash. Sweat was running down her neck and her red hair was matted against her scalp. She had been at this for a while now, getting up early so that no one would disturb her, not that they even dared to. Her reputation and her lover were a fair enough warning for anyone to not deal with her temper. 

Persephone yelled and threw her sword on the ground. Failed attempt after failed attempt, every move making her more angry and more desperate. The dummy was mocking her with his blank features and his straw heart. At this point, she was ready to burn him to the ground with a torch. Persephone took a large sip out of a delicate bottle and the strong smell and taste dulled her aches.

“That isn’t water in that bottle, is it?” Gaspard. Of course. Couldn’t even sleep alone in that huge bed of his anymore. 

He wasn’t wearing his mask, which was always a bad sign, meaning serious talks and stern eyes. Here in his summer estate the servants tried to stay out of there way as much as possible, acting like quiet mice. Maybe that was the reason for his very loose use of the de Chalons mask. Gaspard didn’t even bother with dressing up, just a shirt, some trousers and boots, and his cheeks full of stubble. Persephone shrugged and took another sip.

“No. Josie sent this. It’s some very expensive Antivian liqueur. Tastes like liquid fire.” And it warmed her insides. Josephine surely hadn’t meant for her to consume it in such a ungraceful fashion but her friend wasn’t here to witness her weakness. She was with her family, hopefully happy and safe.

Gaspard raised his brows and came closer. 

“And how is that the best drink for training? Your movements have already become sluggish. You can’t focus with a dulled mind.” Persephone snorted.

“Gaspard, I suck, because I lost my fucking sword arm. I can’t do shit now.”

Her left arm had always been the stronger one. More coordinated, fingers agile and thick from training and scars. The anchor had taken away everything she was. The last talk with Solas followed her into her dreams, filled them with images of destruction and death. Sleep was hard to come by these days. Persephone felt a hollowness in her bones that hadn’t been there before. It ate away the joy and the passion, made her lazy and tired. She’d already put up a few pounds, completely losing control of her own body. A warrior, who couldn’t wield her own weapon, who was worth nothing without the Inquisition. She fought tears. She wouldn’t cry now. Not in front of him. Physical pain helped and she bit the insides of her cheeks bloody. The metallic taste helped with her thoughts. His touch did not.

He put a hand on her shoulders and she tried not to flinch beneath his fingers. 

They weren’t full of feelings and mushy things and she didn’t want to start it now. The Emperor wasn’t known for his patience, neither was she, and their relationship was built upon bodily needs and insults, maybe a dance or two and the death of political enemies. When had things changed that much? When did he actually started to care?

Gaspard’s voice was gentle. “Persephone.”

“What! Did you lose your stupid arm? No. Shut your mouth and let me do my things.” He raised her chin and she couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer.

“I won’t watch this path of self-destruction any longer, Persephone. I gave you time to grief, I granted you room for your temper, but it will stop right here and right now. I love you and I will protect you from yourself, if I have to.” 

Persephone fought the impulse to smack him. He had no right to talk to her like that. She was his lover, not one of the people that he ruled, but instead of anger she felt tears on her cheeks. Maker, she’d have to be more drunk than previously thought. Her body was shaking, her voice unsteady.

“Gaspard… what am I? I’ve been strong, always looked after myself… I can’t even defend myself now. My balance is off, my right arm is worth nothing.” Gaspard put his arms around her. The hug was surprisingly gentle and comforting.

“You’re a Trevelyan, you’re the Inquisitor, you saved us all. You will learn how to use your right arm, you will become strong again.” 

He kissed her.

“And you’re mine.”

Maybe that was enough. For a time.


End file.
